63rd Hunger Games
by fanficreader23
Summary: Today is the day of the reaping, the most dreaded day for other people. Why am i worried? I'm a career. But maybe, just maybe. My name will be drawn. Rated T, cause it's the Hunger Games! R&R!
1. Reaping

The sky is gleaming with sunlight, and it looks like a beautiful day to go out swimming or fishing. The warm radiance from the sun's rays shoot right through my window pane, as I rise up from the bed.

"Aralia!" My mother bellows from the kitchen, signalling it's time for breakfast.

I pick myself up, and to my surprise, Gavon, my little brother, is perched up at my feet.

"Morning, Ara!" He smiles, his face gleaming with joy. He has nothing, and really nothing to know about the reaping or the games. He never should.

"Morning, Gavon." I greet him back, rolling off the covers. My eyes take time to adjust to the sunlight in the room, and then I stand up to follow into the hallway, where I'll meet my breakfast.

While I walk down the house's cramped corridor, I eye a picture frame with a boy who looks exactly like me. Scruffy auburn hair, freckled skin, and the same green eyes; my brother Harlen.

He died about 4 years ago, and it pains me deep down inside. His face is full of the memories from the past, like warm summer days at the beach, playing around, fishing too. Back when I never had a clue of what the Hunger Games are.

He's banished from our sight because of those wretched Hunger Games; an 'ally' of his literally killed him in his sleep. He was a career, tall, strongly built, and witty, too. While me, on the other hand, isn't that much of a built person, but I still manage to train to be a career. I train, but I really don't like it, since even thinking of the Hunger Games makes me want to puke. Unlike the other careers, I don't even care if I get reaped or not, participate or not participate. I think different than them, and I'd be even more than smart to be alone in the games rather than team up with anybody.

I sit down on the table, and there I see the daily offer, the catch we get. Fish and some bread. I eat it all up, and as this is the day of the reaping, I need to go and get dressed.

My mother leads me into our bathtub, where I see it is filling up with water. I notice that my mother has put out some soap for me to use, but I literally don't care.

I get into the tub and soak for about 5 minutes until I'm too bored to just sit around there. I stand up and towel-dry my wet red hair, which I've been toying with in the tub. I look into the fogged mirror, and I see a face reflected into it.

Green eyes, auburn hair, a dash of freckles, peach skin, and most of all, the Fallon family smile. That smile wipes off when I think of what'll be the possibilities today. The realization that I might be drawn from that silly glass reaping bowl is what gets my head into a jumble.

_What'll happen to my family? Will they manage well? How about my friend, Cole? Will he be okay?_ Thoughts are swimming around my head.

I get out of the washroom, and get into my bedroom. I see that my mother has laid out a good set of reaping clothes for me today. An ocean blue ruffle blouse, a white skirt painted with waves, a set of flats with a small pearl bestowed right between the toes; it screams district 4.

I slip into my undergarments and put on the set laid out for me. I stand to face my mirror, and then what greets me is the other half of the reflection I saw in the bathroom.

Slightly broad shoulders, medium build, standing up as straight as she can. That's me.

I walk outside, and sit down with my mother; awaiting what'll she do with my hair. We've been close, very close, since she's been raising me up ever since I can remember. My father passed, so clearly, my mother is whom I've shared a bond with, though I had a pretty strong one with my dad, too.

All my mother does is comb my hair back, and pinning it down with a blue bobby pin. She smiles at me, though you could see the worry in her eyes. _Does she think I'll get reaped?_ I think so. But what are the odds? Careers are desperate enough to go into these games by volunteering for a random person they don't have any connection with.

I've woken up a little bit too late today, seeing as the reaping starts at noon, and its 11:30. We have to be a little early there, but I know excited careers who've been training for their whole lives are already piled into our district's place to do the reaping, eager to get picked out from thousands, or volunteer.

Gavon and Reema, both my younger siblings, Gavon is 10 and Reema is 6, both too young to be entered into the reaping, are going to be standing behind, in the sea of families of the teens who are waiting for their sealed faith.

We walk out, in silence, until a special someone greets me. Cole, my you could say, 'best-friend' pops out of the corner. He wields the same green eyes as mine, though obtaining brown hair. He's tall, strong, and a serious career. We met at career training one day, when the trainer asked us to take a random weapon, and try to use it with the dummies. Since it was both our first years in weapon wielding, the only one I knew about was the spear. I immediately reach my hand out for it, until another hand reaches its way. It was Cole's. We battled over it, bickering like fools. It made me laugh. Our trainer broke it up by lending a spare spear to him, while I got a better one. I stuck a tongue out at him. After training, we both went out and talked about how we fought over the measly weapon. We laughed it out, and spent the entire day at the beach. Friendship began ever since. We've been friends for over 4 years now, both of us being fourteen.

Even though he's fourteen in age, he's like a skyscraper against me. He's a real career, while I'm a joke. He'd probably win any hunger games in a snap.

"Hey, Ara," He comes along, tagging alongside us.

"Where you heading?" He asks. This is by far the dumbest question to ask on reaping day.

"The reaping, of course," I tell him, with a roll of my eyes. "You?" I look up at him.

"Same place as you." He says. He greets my mother, Gavon, and Reema, treating them like his family. Of course he has one, but he never had a sister. Well, both our siblings shared the same faith, both obliterated by the Hunger Games.

We walk along, and he leaves to go to the boy's side of the line. I nod goodbye, and then I freeze where I am. The stage is adorned with a banner that reads, '63rd Hunger Games, reaping day'.

The mayor comes along with a speech, and then the escort shows up on stage. Pretty normal, from the past years' ones. Overdone make-up, eyes looking like they're cats, very strange choices. This year, she's pretty lessened from the make-up, only wearing a bit to match district 4's themes.

She squashes her hand into the boys' reaping ball, and I'm praying silently it's not Cole's.

"Costello Farr!" She bellows, searching the crowd. No volunteers. The boy comes up, he's relatively skinny, and looks so afraid. He's our neighbour, but I don't really bother with him.

My heart starts beating fast when she digs through the girl's ball.

A hush falls over when she pulls it out.

"Aralia Fallon!"

My name.


	2. Highway to the city of hell

**I'm so stupid! LOL, I forgot about her district token! Anywho, it's here, the updated one. Foolish Demi, XD. (clue: it's a sapphire choker. :D)**

Me! Me! That was me!

I feel so shaky right now, I can't move a muscle. Why am I so scared? I've been trained for this my whole life. But something inside me makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Before the peacekeepers start up to collect me, I straighten my back and walk to the stage. I climb up the steps, my trembling hands focused on fiddling with my skirt.

No one volunteers for me. They know that I want this, seeing as I am a career.

I get onto stage, and face my mentor. She's a fairly old lady, and my mother saw her games. She's probably one of the oldest living competitors who survived. She comes up to me and gives me a somewhat of a smile, though her face shows that she thinks I'm a little too young for this. Every adult thinks that.

"Here are your tributes, district 4!" The lady bellows and the audience give a half-hearted clap. I try to muster a powerful smile, straighten my back, and make me look like something more than a weak 14-year old that's only weapon of knowledge is a spear.

I look at my boy competitor, who looks nothing like a career. Relatively skinny, brown hair and blue eyes, something a trainer would highly look down on. I begin to think that to be able to get home; I have to eliminate him, though I hope someone else takes him before I have to.

The only connection I've had with him so far is what are fathers used to be friends, who fished together and such. I've only seen him about twice, since he doesn't go outside, even at school.

Our mentor and our escort lead us to separate rooms, where we'll have to say our farewells to our loved ones. I enter my room, and the room looks lush and beautiful; carpeted floors, relaxing green walls, and a plush blue sofa is placed in the middle of the room.

I find myself to be sitting down on it, awaiting my first visitor.

No surprise, it's my family.

"Aralia," My mother says, as she nears herself to me. I look at her, sadness is in her eyes.

"Yes, mother?" I look at her, and we've sat down on the couch together. She blots her eyes with a napkin.

"You stay safe, okay?" She tells me, getting a grip on both my shoulders. I give a nod.

"You have to keep striving hard, for us." She says, a tear streaking her cheek. All I give is a nod.

"And you have to promise that you have to win." She gives me a wink, and a small smile. A smile forms on my lips, too.

I don't notice, but my mother has a small choker in her hands.

"Here, Aralia." She shows me, and it's a sapphire one with a green band.

"This was your brother's last birthday gift for you, and I wanted you to wear it, to remind you of home." She tells me, fastening it on my neck.

"Thank you, mother," I feel the glistening gem through my fingers, running them up and down the beautiful collar.

Another thing to keep me going.

I notice my little brother at my side, trying his best to hide his tears. He knows some about the games, but not very much. All he knows that I'll be gone for a while.

"Gavon," I whisper, as if talking to a small child. He's ten now, but it feels like he's growing too fast. It seems like it was just yesterday, him being three years old, me teaching him how to swim, down by the beach.

He looks at me with filled green eyes to match mine, and I know I can barely stand it when I see him start to cry. I can't show him that I'm going to cry, it'll only down the mood even more.

"You're my protector, right?" I look at him hopefully. He gives a nod and a swallow of his oncoming tears.

"Well, make sure you go ahead and protect mother and Reema." I tell him.

"Yeah, I'll do that." He says. He's grown up too fast, too fast for my liking.

"But you have to promise me something," He says, trying to take on his words. I wait for his continuation.

"You have to come back to us." He says, on the brink of tears. I sniff back any oncoming tears of mine.

"Of course, I will." I tell him, reassuringly. "That's all I needed to know," He says. "Ara, you promise." He gives me a look.

"Yeah, I promise."

Reema comes along to me, her same green eyes spilling with tears. She's seen some kids her age whose elder brothers and sisters disappear from the games and never come back. She's afraid the same fate awaits her.

I pick her small 6-year old frame onto my lap, and brush down her red hair.

"Hey, Reema," I smile at her, trying to get the best out of me.

"Hey." She replies sadly, looking at her feet.

"Tell you what, I'm going home." I tell her, trying to keep the mood happy. All she does is look a t me, and then turns her head back.

"You promise?" She finally looks up, holding her pinkie finger out for me to intertwine with.

"Promise." I smile, intertwining my pinkie with hers.

"Good, no going back." She says.

A peacekeeper comes in and tells them to go, for I have another visitor coming along. I give my younger siblings a kiss on the foreheads, and to my mother, a peck on the cheek. This may be the last time I see them.

"You promised!" Gavon says, before he gets going. I nod.

"Stay safe, Ara!" My mother comes right after. I nod.

When they finally clear off, I burry my hands into my hair, pulling it back.

"What am I going to do?" I whisper silently, until I hear footsteps coming my way.

I look upwards, and see Cole. His green eyes trying their best to stay happy.

His arms are wide open, signalling me to fling myself into them, and I don't hesitate. I run towards him, and hold him close.

We hold together for a few seconds until we breakaway.

"You have to take care," He says, his green eyes meeting mine.

"Think about how you have the chances to get home, bring home the crown." He smiles at me. But tears start spilling out of his eyes.

This is Cole; you never would expect him to cry like this. He is a career, letting go of a fellow career.

I let myself loose and let a stray tear fall out of my eye.

"Let that spear training we fought over pay off, okay?" I smile at the thought of the spear we both fought over.

"Okay," I smile at him. He hugs me tightly again. Sure enough, we're more than friends now, but it's too early to be thinking about relationships here.

The peacekeeper calls him out, and he looks at me one final time.

"Remember to keep safe, and come back to us!" He screams from the end of the room, so that I hear it clearly.

"I will!" I beckon after him, but he probably left already.

The escort comes and collects me out of the room, leading us into the train to the Capitol.

I enter through the door, and it's a huge train. Rooms, dining carts, anything you would wish to see. The fresh scent of a clean place engulfs me.

I find a window seat, to take a clear view of what I will be missing for weeks and weeks.

My district partner is sitting opposite of me, not even saying a word.

The train starts to pull out of the platform, slowly but surely.

I see a final glimpse of the world I'll be missing, the sparkling waters, the sandy shores, my friends and my family. I will be riding through the highway to the city of hell, known more to me as the Capitol, where my sealed fate will be placed. Whether I live of die.

All of us tributes told someone we'd go back to them. All of us promised our friends and family that we would be back. But only one person out of 24 teens will survive.

And I vow to myself, I will be the crowned victor.


	3. Train ride to the Capitol

I continue to stare out the window, until a touch on my shoulder jolts me to turn around

"Aralia," I don't even know who she is.

I look up to her, and her hair is blue, her skin is somewhat of a shade of coral green. She's trying desperately to fit in with district 4.

She's our escort this year, and I'm wondering who she is.

"Redah Filch," She says as if reading my mind. Her name is quite plain, actually, as for the other escorts I've seen, with 'sparkle', 'dazzle' or a random gem in their names.

"I believe your name is Aralia Fallon, isn't it?" Her voice sounds so shrill and happy, it's like someone's screeching into my ear. But there's something about it that makes me want to listen, and at the same time, cover my ears.

"Yes, yes it is." I reply back politely. If I want chit-chat here and there, might as well be kind and nice to this Capitol lady that will be my control freak for the rest of the train ride and back.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Aralia." She puckers her speckled green lips and stretches her hand out to shake mine.

I don't hesitate on shaking with her.

"You too," I tell her.

She rolls up her sleeve to show that she's written on her wrist. She gives me an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, didn't have time to get a paper," she apologizes. I let it slide.

"We'll be at the Capitol by tomorrow, probably in the near afternoon, I don't know," She shrugs, eyeing her scribbled wrist all-over.

"We'll be able to get a good night's sleep tonight, right, Aralia?" She looks up at me. _Yeah, a good night's sleep when you know your family back home is dreading you being away._

"Yeah, most probably," I say.

She leaves my side, clanking on her sea-shell ridded boots. She comes by again, a shaking Costello in hand.

"Here, why don't you guys chit-chat." Redah says, pushing Costello down onto the next seat. I hardly realised he boarded the train with me. How could I talk to my district partner, who I'm bound to see dying in the arena?

"Hey," I start the conversation. "Hi," He replies. He's always this shaky and fidgety, he's always been like this.

"We both haven't talked in a long while, huh, Cos?" I let myself a small laugh.

"Yeah," He replies shakily, fiddling with his fingers.

"We haven't talked, ever since the time our dads went out and let us be while they fished," I remember, looking up into the chandelier placed on the ceiling. It's shaking a bit, because the train is moving.

"Yeah," He fiddles with his fingers again.

There's a thick silence between us both, and I notice he's close to standing up. I want to talk, so I pop a question.

"I haven't heard much of you or your family in a while, yet. How's Cassidy?" I ask him. Cassidy is his 13 year-old sister, a bony and frail one, just like her brother. She's witty and good with tactics, and could plot how she could win the Hunger Games in a snap, but she lacks physical building. I, on the other hand, am built, but I mostly attack on impulse, rather than plot ahead.

"We're all doing well." He says, trying to meet my eyes, but looks away shyly.

"Cass is doing great at school, and she's the top gun of her class, not to brag, though," He says shyly.

"That's great news, oh, don't worry, no point of telling that, not on the bright side, though." I turn myself down.

We chit-chat for a few minutes more, until Redah comes and tells us it's time for dinner. Dinner already?  
>I look out the window and it's gone dark out, but not completely yet.<p>

We both stand up, and head over to the dining cart. The smell of food is what gets me salivating. Of course, I've been fed well, but, the scent of the food right now is not familiar.

There's a buffet of different food, and I could see the glow in Costello's eyes telling me that he's hungry. There's an array of different foods, from meats to grains, from fruits to vegetables. Piping hot soups, fresh cold salads, roasted chicken, the offer we both haven't had for dinner, this much, anyway.

Redah tells us to not be shy and go ahead and enjoy the food. Costello seems shy at first, but when he sees it, he sees it. He ceases the moment and scoops up subtle yet over-flowing scoop of soup into his bowl, colourful vegetables onto his plate, a leg of roasted chicken, and a full scoop of grains. He hastily runs over to the table and places them down carefully, careful not to spill his soup. He gets down and eats.

I pick up a plate and look over the offer. Several meats and delicacies I never even knew was possible to cook, several fruits I thought could only be served to high royalties, and soups that look delectable. I go back to the cutlery and plate section, and pick up a bowl. I scoop in some soup, and take a subtle amount of food into my plate. I walk back to my table, and I notice I'm the last one there.

I sit down with my group, and start eating.

My mentor introduces herself, her name being Mags. She won one of the earlier games, and probably one of the oldest ones alive. She tells us some advice on the arena, and gives us tips and tricks.

"When I was you age, I became the victor." She thinks back. "My weapons were an awl and a spear,"

"And, all I remember now is I took supplies from the Cornucopia, and the weapons I found in dead tribute's hands." She ends it.

We both think about it, and then we talk to her for a little bit.

We both finish up, and they both give final comments.

"You guys can go ahead and sleep, your quarters are back there," Redah points back, and we see the bridge way towards the next cart, where the rooms are.

When we stand up, young adults, about our age or a bit higher, come up to us without a word and they clean up the table.

They aren't even opening up their mouths to tell each other where to wipe or what to get, instead just using finger movements.

"What are they doing?" I ask Redah, not sounding too rude.

"Oh, they're avoxes." She sounds as almost just pushing a piece of lint away from her shirt. "they, you could say, serve the train," she says indigently.

"But why are they not talking?" I sound like a lost child.

"Oh, you don't have to know," She replies, sauntering off to her quarters.

"I want to." I reply, trying to look as powerful as I can. She looks back at me, her eyes aghast.

"It's a long story, dear." She sighs, defeated. "I'll tell you tomorrow." Sauntering off, her boots clank on the floor.

What do they do to them? Scar them enough to get them not to speak at all? Order them not to speak? Do something with their tongues, maybe? Things are flooding my mind, but if I want to get through the arena successfully, I must not let this thought wrack my mind every second.

I myself, find myself to be heading to my room, to be greeted by a fairly nice room, blankets, a pillow, a big window, and a drawer. There's also a bathroom door.

I peer into the drawer cautiously, like how a policeman would approach a piece of evidence. I draw the handle backwards, and it opens. It must be at least 10 nightgowns in there, robes, too. In the bottom of the gowns lies my get-up for tomorrow, just a simple red dress.

I take out one of the nightgowns and lay it on my bed, and then enter the bathroom.

The sweet scent of soap and shampoo fills the air. I breathe in the extravagant scents, and take a look in the mirror.

Still the same girl who I saw in the mirror, same auburn hair, same green eyes and the same freckled cheeks.

I strip off my clothing and step into the shower, playing with the settings. I find the right temperature I want then jump into the drizzle.

I rub into my hair some gooey concoction from a bottle; and one thing's for sure, it smells sweet.

I lather up with a thick liquid soap that produces a large amount of bubbles. I rinse off and head into the bedroom itself.

I drop the towel wrapped around me and dress into my nightgown. It's a satin blue one, and I kneel on my knees, enough to get my elbows propped onto the windowsill.

The starry sky greets me and the chill of the night wraps around my face.

_Did my family get to eat their dinner like I did? Does Cole manage well? How will tomorrow be without me there? What is the truth behind the avoxes?_

So much thoughts are in my head, and the wind is low-drying my hair.

I fall into the covers and take the pillow to my face.

What will tomorrow truly be like? Will I wake up in my district, knowing this was all a bad dream?

I hope I would just go back home, and get out onto the shore, fish, and spend time with my family.

One thing that boggles my mind.

We're going to be greeted by the Capitol, first thing in the afternoon tomorrow.


	4. Welcome to the Capitol

I wake up and a hint of sunshine beams through the window. It's morning again, and I sit up, and look around. Still the same train walls, still the same bed. I had a dream last night that I was back home, a day fishing with my brother. But I when I tried to scoot closer to him, he moved away. He left me with a smile, telling me he had to go to a friend's house for a while. I bid him farewell, and he banished into thin air. You could say it was a good dream, seeing my brother and all.

I prop myself up on the bed, a pillow straightening my back. I feel a tight clench on my neck, and I jerk my head back, but then it was my choker. My choker, whom I've forgotten that existed because of the exorbitant amounts of food, and the hypnotizing dream. My district token.

It seems that I woke up at around mid-morning, since its 10:00 am. I rub my eyes and yawn loudly.

Someone knocks intently on my door, eager for me to open it. I mutter a sleepy, "come in, it's open" and plop back down on the bed. Lazy days at home are coming back to me, making me want to sleep again.

What gets me awake is when the voice stops and keys start rattling. _Apparently, my mentor or my escort has keys to my compartment. _After I say that in my head, the door clicks and I see a dazzling woman standing in the door frame looking as if she was pulled out of the ocean. That's Redah, alright.

"Wake up!" She tells me in her usual happy tone. "Breakfast is being served! You don't wanna miss it!" She signals me to stand up. She orders me to get changed and bathe, but I only take a quick shower and dress in the red dress left for me in the drawer. I step outside in slippers, trying to imagine the look on Redah's face when she sees me 'out of style.'

With my hair sopping and my face tied into a sleepy knot, I walk to the dining cart, looking like I came out of a Capitol party.

What welcomes me is Mags and Redah, sitting there at the table, waiting for their servings.

"What's being served?" I ask, sitting down on the table. "Oh, sausages, eggs, toast, bacon." She drops when she says bacon, and her eyes lock on my slippers. She looks like she's about to faint.

"What are you wearing?" Redah sounds like she saw a ghost. "That doesn't match!" She screeches in terror. She begins to panic and tosses me her pair of black boots, telling me not to ask, and leaving with my slippers.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask Mags. She nods.

"Why are Capitol people not afraid of the blood and gore in the Hunger Games, but die when they see wrong fashion sense?" I look at her questioningly.

She gives a shrug and we both laugh.

Redah comes back, with Costello in hand, dragging him to the table.

"Breakfast!" Redah says, rubbing her hands together. The avoxes come along, bringing us spilling plates of food. Sausages, eggs, toast, bacon, and orange juice. I've tasted all of these before, but not in this much quantities.

We gobble down half of our serving, until Redah cuts the silence.

"When we get there, you'll be brought to the make-up department, where you'll see your stylist and team. They'll make you pretty." Redah says, looking at her doodled wrist.

We just nod at the onslaught of words from her mouth, stuffing our mouths with food at the same time. We finish, then she tells us to get perfectly well and washed, and just wait for our time to go.

"Also, opening ceremonies, tonight, sharp. Everyone will be there. Everyone will see you. Get interesting." Mags says to us, with a hint of notice in her voice. Probably the most serious one I'll hear from her.

When we finish, Mags leads me somewhere so we could talk about what angle on the chariot ride I'll be putting on. She pats a seat next to her and I don't hesitate on taking it.

"So, what do you want to put on, for us?" She asks me, looking at me with her eyes.

"Maybe likable?" I say unsurely. I'm grateful to have a mentor who's had experience and could talk about it; other mentors are drowned in drugs or liquor.

"Great, smiles, blow kisses, more smiling, make them remember you, okay, Aralia?" She looks at me with a look. I nod.

"Great. That wasn't hard, now was it?" She says, lifting herself up from the seat.

"I'll see you later." Then she leaves me with my window seat.

I look out the window and there's a distant radiance over the horizon. We must be pulling closer to the Capitol, by now.

As if the driver read my mind, the train floods with a booming voice. "Arriving in the Capitol within a few minutes!" I continue to look outside, then we pull through a tunnel, where it all goes dark.

A few seconds from darkness and I see bright lights, dazzling outfits, colourful people, pointing at the train curiously. We are welcomed by the Capitol.

"Here we are!" Redah says with a clap of her hands, looking as happy as can be. She straightens out her green hair, patting it down. "Don't want them to see me all messed up." She says, continuing to pamper her hair.

We arrive into his platform, when the train starts slowing down. Looking around, I see that Mags is talking to Costello, maybe about the angle he's going to use.

There's certain giddiness in me, and another piece of horror. The giddiness is about me finally getting to participate, my career mind is taking over, and the horror part is, well, I may not come back. When you arrive here, there's no going back.

The train completely stops, and we're into this world where we never knew we would live to see. Bright colours, weird fashions, passing looks, whispers of some sort. They recognize it's us, the tributes of district 4, waiting to participate in their annual games. Some of them smile, some point at us.

"Home sweet home!" Redah smiles, clasping both her hands.

We breathe in the heavy scent of make-up, perfume, and something close to roses.

All I know is we are welcomed into the Capitol, ready to be a piece in the Hunger Games chessboard.


	5. The stylist and the team

As we walk out of the station, a lump forms in my throat. _Are these the petty little people who will be watching manslaughter on their televisions? They'll see my every move, every step, and every mistake._

The Capitol; the place you'd never see me in, shining with bright lights, tall buildings, inexplicably crazy outfits, and mostly, people looking like they stepped out of the circus.

We stroke through the Capitol streets to be greeted by this large building, entitled for us tributes to be put in to something phenomenal. Something to stop the crowds of thousands, millions, even.

Redah tells me to get inside, and I kind of hesitate. I mean, what'd you expect me to look like when I get out? A sea-shell? A fish? Or some silly old district 4 themed outfit? I don't know.

Somebody leads me to the front of the building, and Costello and I part, to meet our own stylists. I get a bit scared, because when I step into the room I'm supposed to meet her, its pitch black darkness. I feel around, like a blind person, and find myself to be touching a velvet robe, and I take it in my arms. It's strange when someone steps out behind me, and pulling off my dress, leaving me shaking in my underwear.

"Hey!" I snap, too late, my dress is gone. I wrap the robe protectively around myself, scowling at what just happened to me. I instantly lock eyes with the person I presume to be my stylist.

She has mahogany like hair, peach skin, and fingernails painted with little gold stars. There's also a gold star on her cheek.

"You must be fond of stars," I say to her, when she steps in.

"Why thank you, and yes I am." She puckers her painted lips at me.

"Oh, where are my manners," she says dramatically, placing a hand on her chest.

"Tammy, that's me." She tells me, stretching out her tattooed arm, free for me to shake. I shake it without hesitation, saying that I leave it to her to make me 'beautiful' for the opening ceremonies tonight.

"Well, let's talk." She tugs on my arm, while switching on the light switch with another. We walk towards a table; just simple tea lay in the cups.

"Sit," She commands, sitting me down onto a chair.

I follow her order, and find myself to be chatting with her.

"District 4," She says thoughtfully, searching her head for ideas. "Such a beautiful district, don't we agree?" She points to me with a pen, sipping from her tea. "Waves, sand, seafood, oh, you must love it there." She blurts out, happily smiling at me. I nod and she continues her onslaught of words.

"I once had a girl from there, oh she won, alright." She winks at me. I remain silent and cautiously sip from my mug.

"She was a winner, dazzling in a beautiful blue dress." She pictures, sighing from the thought of fashion.

"I hope I am one, too." I let out a laugh. "Oh, you will." She says.

We continue talking, laughing, and joking with each other. Tammy's pretty nice, she's okay, and she can get crazy at times, but she would pass as my own crazy mother.

"Well, go, go. I have to get ready your dress." She smiles at me, and I smile back.

I return back somewhere, meet up with Mags, my mentor, and talk about some early strategies.

By the time I'm done with Mags, its late afternoon, and she pushes me to go meet with Tammy again, to go get ready for everything.

I bid farewell to Mags, and when I see Costello coming up behind me, I step back to him.

"Hey, who you with?" I pop up beside him, jolting him up. He quizzically looks at me.

"Who's your stylist?" I clarify, and he nods. "Oh, she's nice. Her name's Jessie. She's okay." He brushes me off, and by the time he's finished, we enter the building and Tammy greets me with a hug.

"Oh, Hello!" She says, waving her hands joyfully, giving me two pecks on the cheek. I want to throw my head back, but I stay. She leads me to a team of three, three girls, in fact. They're all representing the Capitol from their head to their toes; brightly coloured hair, speckled eyes, tattooed skin, and circus lie outfits.

"This is Myrina," Tammy points to a girl in her early twenties, looking adorable in her tube like dress, showing off her best features. She shyly waves at me, but you could tell she wants to burst out all her thoughts to me. I smile her way.

"Avia," She points to the second one, looking fairly young, her pink hair done up beautifully. She greets me joyfully, and pats me on the back, congratulating me for having been reaped. I give a small smile, and she tries her best to hide her giddiness.

"And finally, Isis." She points to this rather chubby girl, in a pink dress, the same giddiness as Avia. They all say 'hi' to me in one untied voice.

"Okay, I'll leave you with them, then I'll come back, 7:00 sharp." Tammy leaves somewhere, probably to collect my dress.

The team starts working on me; shaving my legs, touching up my hair, enhancing my features, the like. Once they're finished, they step back, and look at me.

"You're great!" Avia squeals.

"You were the first one who didn't yelp when we tried to shave your legs!" Isis giggles, as if this is the funniest thing she's heard in a long while.

They lead me to Tammy, and leave me there.

Tammy comes up to me, and zips open a bag, revealing an ocean blue dress, adorned with sea shells, animated with crashing waves. I can't hide my thoughts now, words slip off my tongue as fast as they could.

"It's beautiful," I gawk at the dress. A small blush comes out of Tammy's cheeks.

She zips me in to the dress, and I could never know this was me. It's beautiful, and eye-catching, too. It looks rare and magnificent, like a shining pearl.

Tammy does a start on my hair, furnishing it with a pearl crown, and a sea shell clip. She warns me not to touch it.

She also adds eye shadow to me, it's some sort of glitter made to 'enhance your eye colour' as she says. I leave it all to her. A deep blue lipstick is added to me. Then she pats some blush on my cheek, and one more into of glitter.

"Did I really do this?" She flatters herself, on the brink of tears.

I find this funny of her, and I burst into laughter. She doesn't get me.

She pushes me towards a full sized mirror, and I see my reflection. No, this isn't the girl who got reaped and froze. No, this isn't the girl doubting her family's safety. This is a career, wanting to look strong, and is, has gone through numerous amounts of training, ready to tame the wild crowd.

"It's nice," I manage to choke out. There are no words to show my gladness. Tammy has formed me into something worth remembering.

"Well, no point in wearing this if you're not going down there," She points to a stairwell, leading to where we'll go to have our chariot ride.

She guides me down, and tells me more tips on how to stand upright and well.

"I'll be there, in the sides, with the team, okay?" She says. "We'll be cheering for you, darling." She winks, then saunters away, taking her place. It's not yet time to go, but it is time to get ready.

I am about to be a part of these games, but this is just the parade, it isn't truly the games. Or is it?


	6. Chariot ride

I hastily look around for Costello, to see if he's here. I just want the chariot ride to get over with. I mean, we can't have the parade with one less tribute, right?

I look around and there he is, standing there, looking lost in a somewhat scaly outfit. He comes up to me, asking what we're going to do. I tell him there'll be a parade, a chariot ride, and we'll be standing side by side. He nods.

His outfit is built with synthetic fish scales and a tight body suit. He looks like a fish out of water. We talk to each other about each other's outfits, flattering each other with comments that really aren't true.

I spot a charming district 1 girl, walking sexily to her district partner, in a tight gold sequin tube dress. Her hair is just let loose, cascading in bright blond waves to her shoulder. I'm sure her way of luring the sponsors is provocativeness. Her district partner wears a silken tux, a shining gold tie, and show stopping glinting pants. He wields the same blond hair as the girl, both looking striking in their costumes. Both entitled for sponsors.

District two waves in, in slightly more stylish fitted peacekeeper wear, showing off their district pride.

We're assigned to hop onto our chariots, and get ready to be presented to the Capitol people. The roar of the crowd anxiously waiting is deafening from outside, cheering for the top notch districts.

"Suppose we get ready?" I look to Costello, who's rubbing his sweaty palms together. Clearly, he's nervous. You can't see that I'm nervous, but deep inside, the nervousness is boiling up. _What if I don't impress them enough?_

The gates open up and the roar of the crowd is even more deafening than before. They're shouting and cheering for people, who they saw likable from the reaping.

I take a swallow and put on my best smile. District 1 starts the ball rolling by smiling, waving, blowing kisses, and tearing up to the audience of millions. They shout out their names, which are Max and Topaz. Silly names for a silly district.

District two steps in to the hysterical crowd, using the same tactics as the district 1 people. They're trying to be likable, too.

District three arrives, their people in some inventive costumes. Electronics plastered around them, bright lights glowing on their belts. They manage a few smiles and waves, but they're very scared.

Now it's our time to shine; our chariot gets in, and the roar of the crowd is hurting my ears. They seem to like us. I smile, trying to get as likable as I can, and even nudge Costello to do so, too. They shout out our names, mostly mine, and throw some flowers. One blue rose smacked itself squarely into my face.

The other districts pass by, the coal district; district 12 is putting on the miner dusted with coal powder outfits, presenting their tributes in miner's outfits and coal dust smeared on their faces and hands. They're too frail and bony for their costumes; both dark haired, grey eyed, in fierce determination to stand upright.

We haul throughout the streets, and I see Tammy and my team. I give them a wave, and the crowd thinks I'm waving at them, so some wave back. Tammy gives me a small laugh followed by a big round of applause. I can almost hear her telling me how much of a good job I'm doing.

Before we know it, the parade is over, and Tammy comes up. I hug her and thank her for getting me my fans tonight, and she pats my back motherly.

"You did great up there, was that even you?" She jokes. I give her a shrug and we both burst into laughter.

We finish off, and by the time we're in our pyjamas, Redah comes up and tosses me a tape, a tape of the reapings. I curiously chuck the tape into the player, and we all watch cautiously.

District one had volunteers, no doubt. They both volunteered for random 13 year olds, and they don't even know their names. They clamber up the steps happily, showing off how smart they can get and one of them will win the crown.

District two had reaped kids, who look pretty giddy. Both brown haired brutes, physically built to outlast an onslaught of 22 other kids in the arena.

The next district is three, which had two sixteen year olds in glasses, shakily walk up the stage steps.

Mine is next. They show Costello shaking and quivering up the steps, shaking hands with Mags. I'm up next, when I freeze at my spot, and I actually blush right now, and I pull myself up the steps.

The next districts pass by, looking glum and sad they have to leave. They're not career districts, so they probably don't even want to enter these games.

The tape stops on its own, and we all flee to our own rooms. The room is quite different, a tad bit bigger than the one on the train. A bigger bed, yet the same number of nightgowns. I undress of the beautiful creation my stylist has created for me, and I gingerly place it on a hanger. I put on a nightgown, and I'm exhausted enough to just plop into bed. Someone knocks on my door, and I open it to find an avox standing there, waiting with a tray. They got dinner delivered to the rooms, because they think the tributes might be exhausted to clamber to the dining hall. I thank the avox, and he gives a nod of his head.

Dinner tonight is a grand portion of steamed fish, buttered vegetables, and some wild rice. It's still warm, and the drink they serve is a sized amount of wine, and I almost turn it down, but what harm can a sip do? Surely, I don't want to turn into a drunkard, but it's worth a try.

"A toast to Tammy, the most awesome stylist in the world." I laugh, raising the glass up high. "Also for Aralia, for remembering how to stand up tall." I mutter, and then I get a drink of the wine. When it slides down my throat, the burning sensation hits me. There's a certain warmness in my throat that I want to savour, yet there's a bitter aftertaste I just want to spit out.

I finish off the serving, and as if on cue, the avox comes back and takes it from me, and I thank him back.

I drift off into a sleep, and I remember,

Training days will start tomorrow.


	7. Training days: First day

Training day, today. I woke up early to get a grab on the banquet to kick-off training days. I slip on some shorts and a tank top, some clothes I use when I practiced with spears. I hope there are some, down there, I think there would be. I mean, I've seen many of the careers wield spears in the arena, and I'm sure they practiced hard when they were at training.

I slink down the hallway, into the hall where I see that the careers are already lined up and rowdily talking to each other, bickering too. The districts 1, 2, 3 are collecting up a posse to be with for the rest of the games. When the district 1 and 2 girls see me, they shoot me a glance and they walk up to me.

"So, Aralia," The district 2 girl says slyly, walking around me like I'm some sort of a freak.

"I heard you're from four?" She tries to lure me into her trap, but it's not working on me.

"Would you care to join us?" She asks me deceitfully, and I know better than to accept this. This may break what careers have been doing for ages, but it would benefit my odds of living better if I turn them down. I mean, at first, they're all friends, hunting down in packs. But when it's only them, they turn on each other, and stop each other's backs. From what I've learned from my brother, I know what I'll say will be the right thing.

"No, thanks." I brush off, looking for another place to be heading off. The two girls look shocked, even blown away. They exchange looks and the district 1 girl regains her cool.

"Make sure what you say isn't something wrong," She warns me, hissing at my face. "Or else." She trots off, brandishing her golden locks at me, going over to whine to her group that I'm not joining in their pack.

I over hear some of them talking. "Don't worry, Topaz. We'll manage to get someone stronger than that wimp." I hear her district partner whisper loudly, eyeing me as if I committed a crime.

_Great, enemies before the games even started._ I think to myself silently, and then I notice the banquet has started.

Roast beef, wild rice, fruits in colours you wouldn't imagine, and vegetables piping hot and steaming. The other careers start rowdily fighting each other for a serving, and one tipped a glass full of cold water into an avox's face, jolting her awake. He didn't even bother to apologize.

I pick up what's left of the food into my plate, and find a seat at the table.

There's little conversation on the table, if you mute the careers. Around the table, I could see this slightly short girl, probably around the age of 13, sitting with no one beside her. Her hair is cut short, in brown waves across her head. She has hazel eyes, which are steadily fixated on her plate, hastily toying with her vegetables. When she notices I'm looking at her, she hastily looks away, throwing her cheek to my eyeshot.

She looks so afraid, but when I take a closer look, it's one of the girls in district 7, her name being Pine, I recognize her from the reaping tapes. No one volunteered for the poor girl, shaking while climbing up the steps. She looks like a good tree climber, considering that her district is gifted with trees.

I whip my head to my side, where it's occupied by a somewhat small girl, with dark skin and dark hair. She's about Pine's age, both looking like they're 13. She looks slightly taller than Pine, her hair drawn back in a messy ponytail. She looks at me with her brown eyes, and shyly looks back at her plate.

I don't spot Costello, but he's probably sitting in the back, with someone he doesn't even want to talk to.

When we all finish, the careers start bragging about their skills and how good they can throw. I roll my eyes and look into the big gymnasium we're about to enter.

The trainer opens the gate, and the careers start pigging out. Drawing weapons out, prodding the dummies, and even yelling at each other.

Brady, our trainer this year, a tall woman, physically built enough to chuck weights at you and not miss. She instructs us to just roam around, feel free to do anything we want to. Her voice however, is being muffled by the rowdiness that is my fellow careers. When she blows the whistle, everyone shoots into different directions, eyeing each weapon about to be wielded carefully.

Topaz and Lucilla, as I just heard someone say their names, the girls from district 1 and 2, are eyeing me carefully, looking at my every move.

I walk up to the spear throwing station, and I remember what Cole told me. "Make the spear training pay, okay?" I whisper to myself as I pick up a spear, and I throw it at a dummy. I missed the prime target, but the spear embedded itself into the dummy's arm, giving me a reward of a spurt of fake blood.

I continue chucking the spears at numerous dummies, and I only got 1 perfect out of the twenty dummies I tested out. My arms are now sore from the spear throwing, so I try a different station; net weaving.

Net weaving could be helpful; you could fish or make traps with it. I look at the station and notice Costello's bent over some twine, figuring out a way to get it knotted.

"Hey," I pat Costello's back, and he looks up to me.

"Hi," He says, relieved that it's only me and not some career here to drop a nasty comment about him not being gifted in this. I take a seat next to him.

"Your dad didn't teach you this yet?" I ask him, holding up the pathetic lump of grass, twine, and yarn. I look at it in disgust.

"Look," I instruct him, and I pick up my own set of grass and other things to weave together, and I weave a passable net. He looks at me wonderstruck.

"Wow." He says, looking at the net vigorously, eyeing each stitch and hole.

I continue in that station until the trainer there says this is my forte, and I should practice something else.

By the end of the day, the trainer tells us we'll be continuing practices tomorrow until 2 days later, and then we'll show the gamemakers what we do best.

We nod her off and we're sent to our quarters, and just like last night, receive our meals up in our room. Similar to what we had for brunch, and I eat it up. The avox comes and collects it as usual.

I change into my nightgown and fall into a deep sleep, trying to get enough rest to get me through tomorrow's sessions.

Well, at least the first training day is over.


	8. Training days: Worthy Opponents

With grim determination, I prop myself up on the bed, waiting for another day in training.

Today at training, the careers conquer the spear throwing station, and I almost want to laugh when the brave-heart from district 2 completely misses the target.

"No worries," he says with a blush, "That was just a silly dummy, right?" He asks his posse of friends, and they nod while snickering silently. The redness in his cheeks is very prominent. Who would've thought, a career double my size can miss a dummy?

I see Pine, the 13 year old girl in the axe and mace station, having troubles lifting up a simple axe. She's struggling, but when she picks it up, she makes a dangerous hit, throwing it into a wooden board and denting it, breaking it into half. She gives a prosperous smile.

The district 11 girl, Willow, tries to fiddle with the bows and arrows, but it's clearly not her forte. She looks puzzled all over the weapons, but when she finally sees the 'safe roots and berries to eat' station, she nails it. She knows her basic knowledge, but as far as I'm concerned, if it's dangling from a bush and looks suspicious, don't take it. While Willow, she's a pro.

I try to take a seat there, but it's full of scared other tributes, eager to learn what's supposed to be eaten and what's not.

One of the tributes there is having problems of even just identifying if the food is edible of not, and leaves the station embarrassed. I replace what used to be him with myself.

I notice Willow's eyeing the handful of berries like a hawk, and the berries are all different colours; blue, red, and black. She asks the trainer for something, and then she returns with two boxes labelled with, 'edible' and 'un-edible'. No surprise. She aces the thing with flying colours.

I start with a handful of berries, not even nearly us much as she sorted through, and try to demonstrate my knowledge.

When she sees me halfway through, she decides to pop a comment.

"Hey, you're pretty good," She smiles, finishing off her own pile of roots and berries to practice with. In complete triumph, I place another black, oddly shaped berry into the edible box. She looks at me strangely.

"Whoa, I wouldn't do that if I were you," She says, picking up the berry, and tossing it into the un-edible box. "Be careful, this kind may look harmless, but it could take hours and hours of stomach pain to get it out of your system." She tells me. I thank her for reminding me, trying to look strong and I say that I've made a silly mistake, but in the inside, the defeated feeling of getting corrected by a smaller girl than me beats me up. But I won't let it ruin me.

After I finish up there, it's quite harmless to go back to the spears and javelins, showing the careers what kind of opponent they'll be facing. When I stride into the station, the careers step back, trying to intimidate me. My heart starts beating fast as I collect a javelin into my hand. If I fail this I'll be a laughing stock, if I ace this, I'll be in the pit of the to-kill-list of the career pack. Knowing that I won't be with them these games, they see me as an opponent, even though we're the same kind.

I throw the spear, praying silently that I hit the target, even in the arm would do me justice. When I squint open my eyes, the spear is poked through the dummy's stomach, the main target. Plus, it was a moving target, so I reckon I've impressed them. But will this skill be enough to let the gamemakers know that I'm just as good as my opponents? I hope so.

A big clap from the trainer and a hard pat on the back is what I receive a s a prize.

"Great throw," Brady says.

The careers give half-hearted claps, and some shoot me mad glances. They start whispering and nodding, like a posse of mean girls at school.

The rest of the day, chucking axes is what I try, clearly a new thing, I've never handled an axe before, and I did, I swear I would kill somebody.

I don't blame Pine for having trouble in lifting it up, the blade is quite heavy. When I manage to get it up, I throw it simply into the target, missing it completely. Pine continues chucking axes at the wood, and the trainer seems impressed.

When we're finished, the trainer told us to prepare for the day after tomorrow, where we'll impress the gamemakers. The other careers nod and plan to dominate the whole training centre.

When we step out of the gym, Mags comes up behind me.

"I've talked to Cos, and he seems like he doesn't like training," She says to me. I nod in agreement, telling her about the net he made in the station.

"How about you?" Mags asks me quizzically.

"Pretty good, actually, although chucking axes clearly isn't my forte." I roll my eyes at the thought.

"Mags, how did you do in training when it was your games?" I ask her, as we enter the elevator to proceed onto our floor.

"I kind of liked it, I guess. Were there awls?" She asks me, as I press 4 onto the button wall.

I think for a while, and actually think I saw one today. I just nod my head.

"What are you good at?" She asks me, when we stop onto our floor.

"Spears," I tell her plainly, as we walk through the hallway. She nods and shrugs.

Mags tells me more about her games, about her dress, which she vaguely remembers, although she remembered it as a pearl dress, good enough to impress the people of the Capitol. She also tells me more about her training.

"My training score was a 10, I guess." Mags thinks deeply, then nods to herself.

"What do you think I'll get?" I ask her hopefully.

"With a girl like you? If they give you a 7 or lower, I'll be sure to come up there and punch them in the gut." She gives me an encouraging wink. I wink back.

"I'm just hoping what you said is true. I'm nervous as a fish out of water." I tell her.

"Oh, don't worry. After training tomorrow, you should go up to me. We could process more things about you. Talk things over. Student to mentor. Mentor to student." She tells me as she leaves to go to her own quarters I wave her goodbye and reach my own room.

Surprisingly enough, a Capitol attendant comes up for a change and tells me I should visit the dining area.

I roll my eyes but thank him alertly, and ward him away. I dress in a midnight blue dress and prepare myself. The other careers are wearing skirts and pants, and I'm probably the only tribute here in a dress.

"So, did you change your mind set, yet, Fallon?" Max comes up to me, is strong build so close, I feel like shoving him to the corner of the room. "No, and I'm glad not to." I say to him in full triumph, and he gives me a look.

"You better watch what you say, little git," He hisses at me with his tongue. "You'll never know when we strike." Then he strides off, ignoring the fact that I just turned their offer once again.

We eat dinner, and then the gamemakers step in, their suits and formal wear dazzling in the midnight chandeliers.

"A toast to this year's brave, tributes!" One bellows, and the group of careers go wild. They shout, scream and yell, ignoring the fact that they're showing their rowdiness to a camera.

We rise up our glasses not filled with wine, and we all say in one united voice, "Hurray!"

"As you all know," The lady gamemaker taps the microphone, "You are about to showcase your talents to us in a matter of days," She continues, her white hair contrasting with the lights in the room. "So, better do your best!"

When we finish the banquet, I notice Costello was talking to somebody, but I'm not sure who it is. The careers stride up the hallway in their group, smiling deviously at other lowly tributes.

I walk to my quarters and think of saving this dress for another occasion, as I carefully fold it into the drawer. I try to rest my head on the pillow and sleep, to sleep off the smirks and glares of the careers who are now my opponents. I remember the skills Pine and Willow had, both showing utter knowledge in their specific fields. Both worthy opponents.

I manage to rest my head on the pillow, noticing that I haven't taken off my choker, and I never plan to. It draws strength to me; it's just like my brother's wise words, telling me not to be afraid.

But know I know, there are worthy opponents in these silly games we participate in.


	9. Training days: Making an Impression

The next day at training, everybody's showing their skills.

Topaz with the knives, and Max with his throwing skills. As if by pride, Max walks up to me, and chucks a handful of knives at the targets, sticking themselves thoroughly into the wholes. He comes up to me proudly, flicking his tongue at me with utter pride, then walks away with his eyes fixated on mine, intimidating me. I shake the thought out of my head, and focus with my competition.

Pine and Willow are with their fortes again, training with their backs turned to me. Both clearly trying to showcase their skills.

Brady, our trainer, steps up and holds a microphone to her lips. The careers dismiss this, but when she blows her whistle, they scramble towards the microphone.

"Ahem," She says to a career, which tripped on thin air and landed his hands on her feet. He takes his hands off her shoes and steps back, giving an embarrassed yet strong laugh.

"Thank you," She blurts into the microphone loudly, it's ear-piercing.

"At training today, there is a new obstacle course you will have a chance to experience, and it will be just like the one you'll be using to impress the gamemakers." She booms into it again, and a curtain lifts up to announce the presence of a new obstacle.

"This will be similar to the one you'll be using to impress our gamemakers," she says, the curtain fully open. The careers' eyes light up and some even smile.

"But I guarantee the one to impress will be harder." She ends it, blowing her whistle to continue training. The career pack scrambles up to the obstacle course, pushing and shoving each other in the process.

The trainer comes up and breaks the fight, telling them all to make a line. I decide it will be good to watch.

The first one to step in is Topaz, her golden locks tightened up into a reckless ponytail, her hands rubbing each other, painfully wanting to dive into the arena itself.

"Go!" Brady beckons, and Topaz scrambles upwards, climbing some sort of a rock wall, then she slips on a wrong rock, but regains balance again. She swears loudly, it's heard throughout the whole Training Centre.

When she gets down from the other side, the careers start cheering. A smile forms on her lips when target dummies step forward to her, then she picks up a bunch of knifes and hits 3 in the head, and misses the other 3. She cusses again.

By the time she was finished, she was coated with mud, sand, gravel, dirt, fake blood and sweat. A prickly plant grabbed her head, so her ponytail is undone.

She gives a triumphant smile, and heads back somewhere, to take a shower. The careers clap, but another one wants to be the hero.

By the time he's finished, he looks like an upside-down mud-pie. He took on the camouflage, so he's all coated like this. The career pack finishes off their team, leaving the obstacle course looking like a tornado ran over it.

They're all huffing and puffing, exiting the gymnasium triumphantly. They stare down at us, smiling deceitfully.

When training ends, I decide and just remember to go to Mags, where I'll get a chance to talk to her. I come in sweaty, from earlier practice. She asks me to sit down.

"Tomorrow's presentation to the game makers, the night is the interview, so…" She trails off, trying to remember anything in her head. She remembers.

"So, we've got your angle down," She mutters silently to herself. I nod.

"Also, we got strategies." She says, clasping her hands together. "Great, let's talk strategies."

By next half hour or so, Mags and I are talking non-stop about strategies and pointers. It look like a quiz show, she keeps popping questions. By the time the game's almost over, I get the hand of it.

"Best thing to do when night falls?" She asks me quizzically.

"Find a good place to take shelter, you need rest." I answer promptly, smiling, even. She nods.

"And why?" She asks me again.

"Because, if you go night hunting, the careers might find you." I answer intelligently, and Mags seems impressed.

"Good, if I don't see these tactics display when you're in the arena, what am I going to do?" Mags sounds like my mother.

"You'll kill me with your awl." We both burst into laughter.

"Where's Costello?" I ask, looking around for my district partner.

"Oh, he's all the way to his team, getting suited up and designed, for the team to get a better idea on what they're going to be decorating." I nod silently.

"You're pretty good," Mags says with a wink. "Thanks." I smile.

By a strange piece of luck, the Capitol attendant comes up to interrupt, with two bowls of stew for us. We thank him in one united voice. Mags and I eat silently, and when we finish, the attendant comes right back in time.

"So, tell me something about your family?" Mags asks me, looking into my eyes.

"Well, I come from a family of three, a mother, a sister and a brother." I say slowly, unsure about this random question.

"Do they look like you?" She asks again.

"Well, Reema has a darker auburn shad of hair, while Gavon and I share the same shade. My older brother who passed away has the same as me and Gavon. We all have freckles, but Gavon has blue eyes, Reema, Harlen and I have green ones." A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead.

Mags nods and gets more personal.

"How about that boy, you know, the one who's your 'best friend'?" She asks me, looking like one of the interviewers.

"Um, we've been friends for a long while now; we've shared sunny days at beaches, and rainy nights under a palm tree, of one of his umbrellas." I say, reminiscing of old times.

Mags loosens up.

"Great, you're good for your interview." She smiles at me, and I smile back.

I get relieved and stop thinking that she's being too personal.

I thank her for tonight's talk, and she tells me to go get rest. I head on up to my quarters, hastily changing from my sticky training wear, into comfortable pyjamas. I finally let myself to snap off the choker, I haven't seen it for a long time.

I place it towards an open window, and the glistening night sky is pairing up with my sapphire choker. I just notice, there's a small engraved A.F. on the sapphire; my initials.

"Oh, Harlen," I let myself a small smile. "You're so thoughtful." I smile even wider.

"I hope you know how much we miss you," I kiss the choker, feeling the coldness of the gem. "Because we really do." I snap back on the choker, and wipe the stray tear from my eye. I can't let myself break down now, because I'm already so far in this competition, I can't go back. If I win this thing, I will get a chance to avenge my brother's death, to finally make him some sort of a winner in these cruel games.

I fall into the covers.

To impress the gamemakers is to be the winner. To lose this opportunity is shame to the end.

Make the first impression right. That's all you need to win these games.


	10. Training days: Private session

I open my eyes, to see a bobbing set of rainbow coloured eyes staring down at me, giddily. I squint to take a closer look, but the set of eyes jump backwards, tugging on my arms to get wide awake.

"Wake up!" She beckons, and I notice its Redah, our escort. I haven't seen her ever since the train ride.

"You have to get ready! Private Sessions start right after breakfast!" She delightedly proclaims, flipping the covers off my bare legs. I yell at her, "Hey!" but she doesn't reply. All I know is she dispatches a clump of blue clothing into my arms.

"What's this?" I look sternly at the clothing.

"You're training attire," Redah smiles, "Tammy wanted me to give you this, wouldn't want you to be running around in your normal wear, " She winks. "Which is why I gave you this."

The next thing I know, I'm in the bathroom, with a brew of pink bubbles sitting in the tub, waiting for me to enter in it. I take a cautious step in, and I judge that it's good enough.

"Now, I'll leave you here, Tammy here with the team, now. See you at dinner!" Redah leaves the bathroom door open. I wait inside the tub, until I hear clanking footsteps nearing me.

My team looks very stylish, gold, diamonds and gems hang down from each of their bodies, and each one of them has three products in hand. I give them a scared look, wondering what they'll do to me.

One of them starts rubbing some gooey gel into my hair, making me somewhat feel good. Another stretches out my leg, careful not to bob any other part out of the water, and starts rubbing it with some liquid soap. My hair is 'normal' now, considering it only took one wash.

They let me step out of the tub, leaving me to wear my outfit. It's a nice blue sort of jumpsuit, fitted to the body, even more to the hips. I towel dry my hair and get suited up. The shorts end right up at my knee, and the shirt is sleeveless. I tie my hair up into a ponytail, hair spiking out of nowhere. When I face the full body mirror, a true career greets me.

I step out to the dining area, where the careers are packing themselves with food, each taking more servings than I could ever stomach in a day. They stuff their mouths with food, trying to get as much energy as possible. They'd be lucky not to puke all over the floor of the training centre by the amount of food they're taking in.

They look at me, and I see one trying to stride up to me, but her district partner pulls her back. They whisper something evil about me. I roll my eyes and stare at the banquet table. As usual, what's left of the food is there for me, the other half inside the careers' full bellies. I stack up my plate, ignoring the stares and glares of the pack, looking as if I copied their method of energy gathering. I walk away from the table.

By the time we're finished with breakfast, an announcement booms throughout the training centre.

"Attention, tributes of the 63rd Hunger Games, private sessions will commence in a few minutes. Please get in-line by district. Thank you." And the careers start going wild.

They start cheering and shouting, bragging about their skills that they will show the gamemakers.

I see Costello in the whole crowd of tributes, looking pretty nervous. Well, I couldn't blame him, I am nervous, too.

We get started, and the districts fly by in seconds. The first one steps out smiling, though breathing heavily. I think the obstacle course is going to be challenging.

District 2 flies by with two of its tributes huffing and puffing, though clearly bluffing by the looks of their faces. A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead. This is not the time to break.

District 3's darlings come out, wire scratches upon their cheeks. They might've invented or made a trap in there, to use on the dummies.

Then it's my turn. My heart starts beating faster and faster by the second, as I enter the room filled with intimidating stares from the gamemakers. These are the people in-charge of my death in the arena, so I better make this well.

They stare down at me, and I stare back at them with a strong smile plastered on my face. I eye the obstacle course I'm about to step into, and it looks complicated; wires to climb over, nearing dummies you have to kill, hard rock climbing walls, slippery slopes, and on top of that, traps all around. This looks like a death trap itself.

The gamemakers are eating away, feasting their eyes on my every move. I step on the platform, my heart racing like I've just ran a marathon. I look up and one of the lady gamemakers shoot me a thumbs up and then I wink.

Beep! The horn blasts into my ears, and I start running. I notice there are spears placed with maces and bows and arrows carefully placed on the floor, and I know this is a trap, but I carelessly pick up the spear anyways, bracing myself for a sudden boom or a trap to hang me upside down. But nothing comes up.

I continue speeding through the course, leaping over obstacles, but probably, the dumbest thing happens, I trip into thin air. When I collect myself back up, I notice some of them are snickering silently. I stop and glare, trying to prove my superiority. But, I make a comeback. When I spot a dummy going near to me, I hit it squarely in the stomach and collect the spear followed by a backflip over a trap. I never knew I could do that.

I continue sprinting through the track, when a rock climbing wall finds itself into my face. I fearlessly clutch on a piece of rock, only to find myself slipping off it easily. I get desperate when I fell countless times, so I started jamming my foot in every crenel, as opposed to clambering up the wall and slipping every given moment. I'm almost out of breath, but I want to keep going.

After I slip and slide through the wall, I jump off the wall and head on over to the next obstacle. I'm weapon less, because my spear had imbedded itself into the dummy's stomach.

I've landed on a slope, and somehow, gravity hates on me right now. It's pulling me down, where like a fully armoured dummy stands. That would probably break my foot with the touchdown.

Closing my eyes, like a scared child, I slide down the slope, waiting for the wracking pain that is sure to control by the next second. But what happens when I open my eyes is that I kicked it straight in the face, and I actually knocked it down. It's either training dummies are so flimsy, or I just kick hard when I'm scared out of my wits.

Sweaty and spurted with a bit of fake blood, I collect myself up onto my feet.

A few stray claps come from the gamemakers, but none the less, they stop.

"Thank you," I say while turning my back to the gamemakers. At least they're not drunk over wine to go screaming at me, or chase right after me.

I step out the doors, and there are a few scratches on my clothing, and a stitch of fabric was torn from my pant leg.

I get away, and I just want to stick around. About thirty minutes later, Pine comes out sweaty and blood stained, though I can tell she was chucking axes, by how she's letting her arms droop to her sides.

Willow comes out later, looking a bit less grotesque than me, looking much cleaner.

After everyone is finished, we all gather into the banquet room for lunch, then start staring at the screen.

An 8 for both Topaz and Max, a 9 for the rest of the careers. I'm wondering what they did in there to get a high mark.

I wait anxiously for my face to flash into the wide screen, and then it does. Surprisingly enough, I get a 10. The career pack eyes me jealously, trying to make me feel bad of getting a higher mark than them.

I allow myself a small smile, and I know it's not time to sleep yet, but it's just early so I let myself a small nap. It can't hurt, can't it?

I plop down onto my bed, waiting to drift off into sleep. Crazy things fill up my mind fast, about the stares and the snickers, the mad glances and the obstacle course. Of course, I let it all slide and I sleep it off, because I need rest to be upbeat and happy for the interview angle.

All that's on my mind is, The interview later on.


	11. Interviews

I wake from my small nap, to realise it wasn't a small nap, it was a long one. From noon to now, it's already dusk, making me jolt awake, and 4 pairs of bright; glinting eyes are trained on me.

"Wake up!" Avia beckons, pulling on my arm with a slight tug.

I wake up slowly but surely, and the bathroom floor is lined with necessities for my hair and body. They need me to look my utter best for tonight's interviews.

I remain groggy, but the next thing you know, I'm being stripped off my clothing, and being shoved into the bathtub within a split second.

"Oh! We're so excited for your interview!" Isis smiles widely, squeezing an enormous amount of thick, clear shampoo into her painted hand. She then rubs it across my head, sweeping various circles and lines into my hair. She detangles my hair off the tangles and knots, leaving my hair for its second wash.

"I hope you'll do well!" Avia screeches right after her team mate, bobbing my leg up for her to take a look at. She rubs it with a loofa sponge, scratching my skin into perfection. The soapy bubbles are lessening the pain of the somewhat painful scrubbing up and down my leg.

"Oh, she will," Myrina bumps in, arriving with a brew of soft, baby blue bubbles in her arms.

"Now, hold still and I'll rub this on your arms," Myrina commands me, as I stretch out my arm gently. She squirts a handful of the stuff into her open palm and starts rubbing my skin. The sensation is quite new, since nobody in district 4 has been rubbed with this contraption, well, the victors maybe, but the other people, not a chance.

Just when I was about to open my mouth to ask what it is, Myrina tilts her head up to me.

"It's some kind of a skin softener, to keep it smooth and shiny, since you'll be wearing a strapless dress." She rambles on, and as if reading the stare she's getting from Avia, she hushes up.

"I'm sorry, erase what I just said," a small blush performs a small entrance on her cheek. She didn't mean to say that.

After my hair has had its third and final rubbing, and I'm deemed ready. They get me out of the tub, slowly, careful not to rub my 'perfectly smooth' legs into any furniture. I get to the chair without any bumps or disfigurations, so I'm okay. The team slips me into simple underpants, and then it's up to Tammy to do the finishing touches.

Tammy greets me with a huge, warm hug, though careful not to touch any of my already good parts. She sits me down on a chair, while she goes back and grabs a big zipper gown, careful not to let any part of it peek out.

"Close your eyes," her make-up cannot mask her true emotion; giddiness. Of course, I just follow what she says, giving a tentative peek each second. When she catches me, she snaps a "No peeking!" at me, and I stop. I wait.

"Okay, one, two, and three…" I hear an un-zipping noise. "Open!" Tammy says happily, and I flicker open my eyes. The thing that I see is pure beauty, captivating, even. It just came out of the sea, its beautiful waves hanging down onto the floor but the dress is only knee-length, making noises of it crashing on the shore. On the waist line, it's not some cheesy scales waist band; it's an elaborate seaweed chain, mixed with a woven net hanging down the side. The bodice is coated up and down with seashells and the chest line is adorned with alternating sapphires and pearls, with a shawl of fishing nets, hanging down my arms. I gawk and rub my eyes, to prove this isn't all a dream.

"This is mine?" I look at her star studded face, while she gives a small nod. I smile on her behalf.

"Now let's get started with your make up." Then she wings me over to a mirror, slipping me into the strapless dress, its luscious waves touching the ground. She sits me down careful, not hurting the dress I'm wearing. I also take caution, because if I bump my arm into something, a bruise will appear in my arm, making it look like I have a make-up tragedy.

Tammy paints and tattoos my arms with ocean blue spirals, to represent some sort of water source making its way up my arms. She then gets some midnight blue eye shadow on my eye lids, making me look breath-taking. A blue green lipstick is coated on my lips.

"Perfection," Tammy blots her eyes carefully with her hands, delicately enough not to harm her make-up. I am ready.

When it's time to get on stage, we have to. I see Pine, in a very elaborate tree costume, as what the district 7 people have looked like for ages. Her head-dress is a thicket of pine needles, careful enough not to prickle her head. I look around and Willow's there too, her small figure blocked by a camera. I have to wait and see her costume.

"Welcome, welcome, tributes, to our interviews for tonight!" The host bellows, his sparkling green suit twinkling in the stage light. "I'm your host, Caesar, Flickerman!" He booms into the microphone, and the roar of the audience is deafening. He manages to calm them down.

He cracks up a few jokes and words to warm up the crowd, then introduce the girl tribute from district 1, her name being Topaz. She strides up to the single seater plush chair, and with that, shakes her hips from side to side in her provocative royal blue dress. Blue meaning richness, against the poorer districts, showing her superiority.

She has a full exchange on how she's excited to be a part in the games and win Caesar backs her up with, "Oh, with you being a career? Pfft, my best bet is you," and she walks way, trotting in her high heels.

The boy comes along with his brute strength, telling the audience that he will show it when he gets in the arena. One is done, two is up next.

The pair from district two is represent their training strategies, bragging about their spear and knife throwing skills, and how you could bet on them for winning it. They leave and district three is up.

The pair from three is quite stammer-prone, they're so fidgety. Both of them are jam-packed with questions that deliberately need answers. All the questions aren't answered by the time they're finished with it. Now I'm being called up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for this year's final career tribute, and girl tribute from district 4!" Caesar welcomes me happily.

I stand up, and flash a smile to the audience. I take a seat, and we start.

"So, Aralia, how do you like the Capitol so far?" Caesar asks me, scooting a tad bit closer to me. I give myself time to think.

"Well, for one thing, it was a big change," I say rapidly, "But I am impressed; the scenes, the lights, the people, and most of all, their fashion choice is rather funny." I don't know if I offended the crowd or not, but a few stray smiles and giggles come out of the crowd. Caesar takes time to think, and then he replies.

"You are right," He says quietly, looking down at his sparkled suit. "I do look like a cupcake!" He gives a puzzled look at the crowd, followed by a roar of replies like, "No!" or "Yes! Yes you do!" and they laugh, also. I give off a small giddy laugh.

"Let's talk training score. How did you feel when you got a higher mark than any of the other careers?" Caesar asks me almost confidentially. I give time to think, but I know the clock is ticking, so I let out what's in my mind.

"Well, somehow proud, I guess," I fumble with my words. "Getting a higher mark than people twice your age and size doesn't happen every day, so, I guess that was triumphant." I say, and a few stray bits of laughter clamber from the crowd's mouths. Caesar allows himself a chuckle.

"Beautiful dress you got there, can you show us a bit more?" He directs me to stand up, and I do. I almost fall backwards on my high heels, but I thank every power that I didn't. I stand up, almost shakily, afraid what to do next. "How about a spin?" Caesar invites me, and I do. We both stand up, me reaching his hand, and him doing the same thing, and he spins me around, producing a vast number of bubbles to fly into the air. I'm about to get dizzy when he stops.

"Beautiful, breath-taking, darling." He smiles. I smile back.

"And your skills, I reckon you've been training for a while now, eh?" He gives me a nudge.

Think. Think.

"Yeah, training," I sputter. "Weapons?" He asks me.

"Spear and self-woven nets," I say speedily, as I count the remaining seconds. One minute.

The crowd looks impressed, maybe on my choice of weapons? I don't know.

We continue on an exchange about my friends, and then it leads to my family. He asks me if I miss them. I tell him I sorely miss them, though they should not worry, because I'll try my hardest to win. Literally. Being sisterly is sort of easy.

We have a full exchange on if I drank freckle juice, considering the many freckles spurred on my face. I near my head to his colourful eyes and he counts them one by one. The audience bursts into a fit of laughter.

He gives me one final comment on my dress, then my buzzer rings.

"Whoops!" Caesar laughs as he counts the 17th freckle on my face. "That's all the time we had for Aralia Fallon, district 4! Any last words, darling?" He asks, focusing the microphone to my blue lips.

"And may the odds be ever in my favour!" I giggle into the microphone. The audience gives a round of applause and a roaring laugh.

Sweet, sisterly, funny, charismatic, talented? Is it enough to gain me sponsors? I'm hoping so.

I take a seat next to the fidgety district 3 boy and watch the rest.

Costello, district 5 and 6 act almost alike, nothing much to say, but are hiding something inside. I manage to think that the district 6 girl is being sly and quiet, maybe she'll kill cleanly and wordless. Maybe it'll be me.

When Pine steps in, she's wearing her tree and leafy slippers. Her exchange with Caesar was fully about her district and her axe chucking. Caesar praises her skills, for one so small to be able to chuck heavy weight axes. She curtly thanks them.

Willow joins in the fun with her cute hay dress, something that looks great on her. She has a straw hat on her head, and a warm smile painted on her lips.

When Caesar asked her what she loved to do, she told him that she loved climbing trees, which was unusual for a district 11 girl, =and staying up there with the breeze, or even writing small poems and songs. If she doesn't get caught, though.

Caesar compliments her sweet nature, and her knack for identifying poisonous and non-poisonous. She smiles shyly, and thanks him, telling him that her mother taught her about them.

She wings away; letting stray bits of hay trace her steps.

The pair from district twelve are quite quiet ones, dressed up in loose miner's wear, slathered with coal dust, up and down their arms and legs. It looks quite a bit grotesque, since their stylists have tried their best not to make them look so thin, but efforts are discarded. Their ribs are prominent, their eyes just slathered with black eye make- up to cover up their eye bags and their droopy eyes. Their exchange is quite boring, but they still managed to finish.

When the interviews are finished, everyone is a bit tired, and wanting to get to bed. Why? Because tomorrow morning, we'll not be waking up back in our own districts, but we are going to face the arena itself.


	12. The Hunger Games have begun

I wake up, on my bed, shaking at thought that today will be my first night in the arena. I push myself up, knowing that the next few hours would be torture. My family back home; they will be watching my slaughter up on live television. Gavon, just coming home from school, Reema, playing with her dolls, Cole, fishing out on a boat, thinking deeply; all of them will have to stop and watch. Watch me slaughter people to get back home to them. What'll they think of me? A monster? A killer? Or still their sister, friend and daughter? I don't know.

I stand up, and a note is placed on my bedside table. I says; 'come spend breakfast with me, love Tammy'. I place the note back down, and keep in mind to head straight into a room where I'll be spending time with her. I force on my robe, because my grip on things isn't really going great. I strut down the hallway, and I see half of the tribute's bedrooms are empty; they probably went down for breakfast.

I walk along the corridor, where Tammy's room normally is. The hallway has some sort of an ear-splitting silence, but I know the silence will stop when I appear into the room.

When I enter the room, Tammy envelopes me into a big hug, tears rimming her eyes, though not falling. She releases from the hug, and then I notice her tears are rolling down her cheeks. Has she grown attached to me? Enough to cry when I'm about to get slaughtered on live television? I guess so.

"Sit," Tammy tells me, patting a chair beside a table. I take the seat, and look up to her painted face, blotting her tears with a tissue. I wait for her to finish, then she takes a seat next to me.

"So, how was the night?" She asks me, re-applying a gold star onto her cheeks. She flattens her hair down, and then looks at me, waiting for a reply.

"Nothing much, really, I actually got to sleep through it, but the morning seemed to creep up on me." I tell her, as the attendant comes and brings us breakfast, the usual feast.

While both of us taste the bacon and bread, I look up to her. "Tammy, how do you think I'll do in there?" I question her, taking a sip off my hot chocolate. "I bet you're going to be a winner," she gives me a truthful wink, and I smile ruefully. "Oh, don't be so scared, dear," Tammy pats my back encouragingly, and I force a small smile onto my lips. "I bet you'll win this thing." She seals it with a wink.

"Against them?" I gesture, referring to the other tributes. Tammy gives a nod of her streaked her.

"You got a higher training score than all of them," Tammy counts on her fingers. "Also, they loved you out there." She smiles happily. I smile back.

"Okay, now that we're finished," Tammy says, setting our plates to the side. "Why don't we get you ready?" I nod and she lets me be, to take a short shower in her bathroom, telling me to use the shampoo on top of the counter. Of course, I follow her orders, and the next thing you know, I'm out of the bathroom within a blink of an eye. Tammy seems shocked to see me out earlier than she expected.

"Why out so early?" she says, laying down my outfit. "Mine?" I question, pointing at the green cargo shorts, tank top and minimally thin hooded jacket. "I'll survive with this?" I ask her. I don't know what the Gamemakers have in store for us, this year. It's tedious to have something weigh you down, like heavy pants and long sleeved shirts when the Gamemakers make it unconditionally hot, or even more tedious when it's freezing cold and your stylist puts you into shorts and a tank top. But I think Tammy's design is alright, since with the cargo shorts, I could fold out the pant folds, and have full length pants, but I could roll them up to my knees and make it shorts for the heat. Also, the tank top for the heat, and I could always pop on the jacket when it rains or gets colder. I thank Tammy for this.

She squeezes me into the outfit, and brushes down my hair, and takes me to this room, where I'll be transported into the death match they call an arena. I wonder how Costello is feeling right now. Sick? Scared? Giddy? I don't know.

"Tammy, will I be good enough?" I'm standing with her, when she opens her fist and shows me my choker. "You forgot this," Tammy buckles the clasp, and backs away, looking at me.

"I'm going to be so proud of you!" She gives me a big hug, with a lone tear finding its way down her cheek. I hug her in return, knowing that her 'creation' for the Capitol to see may be extinguished in live television.

"You will, you'll be the best." She reassures me, grabbing hold of both my shoulders in her steady hands. "But I-"I get cut off when she places a finger to my lips. "No need to say anything, you will do this." I give her a nod, and she hugs me tightly again.

"We will cheer for you, all of us," she gives me a wink, and when the time comes, the elevator is here to pick me up. I stand frozen, but Tammy manages to get me in. I'm shaking and trembling, and not able to take this all in. The doors shut, and I stand there frozen, while I try to read tammy's lips, shouting me encouragements. I nod, and I begin to rise. Is this is it? Will I finally be in this death match? After I think of this, Tammy bids me farewell, while I'm way above her head now. I clench my hands into fists, and stand up as tall as possible. My platform stops rising, and I am greeted by my arena. The golden Cornucopia bestowed in the middle, a beautiful pasture, a meadow even, and a dry dessert plain. Many trees, and lakes and bodies of water. I'll survive.

The countdown starts.

It lessens down to 20, then to 11…

10…. Oh no! What have I gotten myself into!

9…. It's okay, I'll pull through.

8…. What if I die? Will they grieve and just move on? Or turn to grieving their whole lives?

7… Oh no….

6,5,4,3,2,1,… The Hunger Games have begun.


	13. Into the first day

I'm stiff, maybe even frozen, but my instincts are begging me to dart to the golden horn, where a sturdy silver spear is just lying on its own. I hesitate, because I will be away from the safety of my plate, the plate that brought me into this death match. I let my instincts control me as I dart towards the horn, where I see the career pack picking out from the weapons, and even massacring some other players for a weapon. The girl from 2 dislodges a small sharp knife from another tribute's fatally wounded hands, and starts eyeing the spear in front of me, the one I wish to have. Terror and bravery starts brewing inside me, my brave side wanting to protect the spear I want and need, and terror that she may kill me.

My brave side rules over as I clutch the spear's handle, and she does too. We have a face off, tugging on each side of the spear, wanting to get the strongest heave to get the prize. She tugs hard, but the blade scratches her fingers, making a cut big enough for her to get conscious with. Just enough time to get the spear for myself. I tug on the spear, as she hastily tries to blot the blood flow, and manages to catch up to me, while I speed out of sight. She comes up to me, taking her nifty little knife to my cheek, pressing long and hard, making a decent cut that'll sure bring agony. I close my eyes in pain as I register what's happening. Her arms are embodying me, and the slit is getting longer by the second. I can't show myself as this weak of an opponent.

"Ah!" I yell, breaking free from her clutches. Her eyes are showing threat, anger even, mad that I got away from her. With all my might, I run away with the spear, and luckily get a medium sized pack. I'll be sure to check what's in it, later. Her anger is flushing her face, and she lets this go, by grabbing something like a sword, and leaving with a big pack that I know will contain mountains of food. I run away as fast as possible, eyeing whether I should make a move on the dry dessert plains, or the meadow garden. The dessert land will send me to dehydration and heatstroke, and the meadow will often contain poisonous things. I make a run for the meadow-like sanctuary, where I know will be a lot easier to be in.

Careful not to make a lot of noise, I tiptoe through the glades of grass, looking like fool, twisting my head back and forth, on the lookout for upcoming dangers. Nothing.

No talent with tree climbing, so I guess sitting somewhere hidden will be good enough. Great, only my first hour in the arena and I've already shed blood. I tentatively touch my cheek cut, and wish I hadn't. The feeling when you eat something salty when you have just bitten your tongue is just like what I am feeling, but worse. It hurts.

I continue making a look around the thicket of trees and grass, muddy patches and small streams, put down for me. The ugly cut on my face would make Tammy and the team wail with horror. I try my best to get hidden, sitting unsurely under a tree, surrounded by the thicket of bushes and saplings. This might be the worst thing I'll be doing. I plop down onto the grassy floor, eager to see what's packed up in the backpack I've just fished out of the bloodbath earlier. There's a warm blanket, a bottle of water, and a pack of rations. These will probably last me quite a while, maybe three days. The danger of that the careers will find me is taking over, so I take one last look, and there's a glinting piece of silver at the bottom, carefully wrapped in a white cloth. I open it up, and see spearheads. Was this pack made for me? I almost want to scream thanks to the Gamemakers for giving me a shot with this. But, I take the liberty of stopping, since I might give away my spot. I stand up, and start lurking around the forest. Footsteps are what I hear. I instinctively jump behind a bush, and peek through some open slots. It's the girl from six who I saw quite quiet, deliberately twisting her head back and forth looking for any upcoming dangers around her. She finishes her worries, and begins to peer around, and notices that I'm here.

"Hey there, district 4." She sounds oddly scary, looking like a maniac with strawberry blond hair and droopy eyes. I shuffle back, and I believe this will be the end of me.

"I'm coming to get you," she proceeds, lurking to my front view. Panic is boiling inside me, as I feel she is getting too close for comfort.

Just when I thought I would be dead, she freezes in her place, when she hears footsteps coming our way. Crunching in the grass, boots drown into the surroundings. She screeches, 'I'll get you later!' and speeds away, her strawberry blond hair tailing behind her like rays of sunlight. I stay steady, unable to decide whether to move, or stay crouched low. More boots appear on sight as I notice it's the career pack.

Praying silently I'm not being seen, I scoot a little bit closer to the bush, where I can overhear, but can't be seen by them. I hear them arguing.

"Why'd you let number six go?" I think the boy from two asks Max, who's shrugging his shoulders rapidly, unaware of the fact that his target just sped away.

"Fool," the brute says, smacking Max squarely in the head. Max instantly converts his shrugging into nursing his broken nose, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

"And you," the brute snaps the boy from three, looking so inferior twirling a coil of wire in his fingers. He immediately stops his fiddling when he finds out the brute was looking at him.

"Why didn't you chase after her? You were trailing behind him," he points to Max, who's getting a little less than help from Topaz, who seems to not know what she's doing. For all she knows, she could be breaking it even more.

"You see, Jace," the boy from three stammers, and I know now the brute's name. Jace.

"I mean to, um…" he thinks, and Jace gets it all. Jace punches his hand into a tree, missing the boy's head thoroughly.

"Let's get moving," Jace says unhappily, cracking his knuckles even though they're bleeding a bit. His temper is really off hand, getting very angry through just one tribute that slipped from him.

"We don't want to waste daylight." He finishes, and the real anger shows when he swats away a bandage from his district partner. She cautiously is taken aback, but then gives no utter care. Sure, she'll look out for him now, but when it's down to them and them only, I'd say they'd go and kill each other in two seconds.

They march off, and I find myself to be instinctively running away from the sight, making a mad dash to what seems to be a small stream. When I get close to it, I examine it, and just when I was about to give it a tentative touch, it fades away, revealing the dessert plains to me.

Hot conditions; stupidly placed here. No one would want to go in there.

I stretch my arm out, and without a warning, some sort of thing just burned my two fingers which are almost out to the plains.

"Ow!" I yelp, and I take the liberty to know that I should get away.

After drowsy walks and numerous bump- ins into rocks to my feet, I watch as night falls by. I decide to find shelter.

I find a cavern somewhere, hidden by a thicket of bushes, trees, and rocks. I find it fairly easy to slip into, since of my almost petit figure, and I slide into it, with the blanket on the bottom of my bag. I get settled in, and the anthem booms loudly.

It showcases the deaths today. I don't know why, but I suddenly pray that neither Pine nor Willow will be gone; I've grown a liking for those girls, and I'm hoping someone does the job before I have to.

Thankfully, it's not them. It's twelve, both of them, and also the boy from seven. I suddenly remember the mentor for twelve, who played a gig with the force field, and used it against another competitor, drunken and surly, not even caring because of the many tributes he's already lost. I kind of feel sorry for them.

The Capitol seal lights up the night sky as my eyes flicker gently. I check around my surroundings, to find out that I've lost a grip on my spear, and it sits to my side. I clutch it fast and am ready for predators and tributes alike. Too late, my eyes give up, and I tighten my grip on the spear, and stay huddled into the blanket I have. I'll be sure to hide here now, since it's the last place they'll be looking for me. They usually think four hides in bodies of water and lakes, but I don't. I believe I'll be safe tonight.

I have lived through my first night into the arena. But tomorrow will be another challenge to face.


	14. Streams and Screams

My eyes open instinctively, as I hear a clatter of leaves and branches around me. I open my eyes, to find myself staring into a wide set of brown eyes peering down at me. I'm not sure if it's another tribute ready to hack my head off, or an animal. Or maybe it's Pine. Or Willow. Just in case, I ready my spear in my hand, ready to hurt anything that will dare to hurt me.

Seeing my spear poised in my hand, the eyes are taken aback. They're peering from a tree, and now, I am really sure it's Willow. Who else loves climbing those horrid messes of branches and leaves other than her? Surely, someone else, but the other careers are too heavy for these kinds of climbing.

I take a step up, with the spear still in my clutches, and the brown eyes are making a bigger step backwards. Stepping up closer, I notice it's pretty glassy, and then I take a closer look, fake eyes. A mechanical rod is attached to the back of each, pulling it backwards, also pushing it forwards. I take this as a tip, making me aware of the sudden dangers that just may pop up randomly in my face.

Trying to forget the trick that made me look utterly stupid, I pack my things up and head down. I'm not really sure where I'm heading, but I'm sure I'm going somewhere. Snatching a packet of rations from my bag, I snag a few bites, before I notice how deadly hot it is.

The burning heat seeps to my skin, and I roll up my pant legs and take off my sweater. Sweating and panting, I start towards a thicket of bushes, and think that the heat must be something from the dessert plains. Great, the Gamemakers were actually planning on using that.

Now, finally I'm excited, for once. I make my way out of the greenery, and find something that I could work with. A stream.

Wanting to jump for joy, knowing that I may have this all to myself, since it's hidden away at the end of the forest patch, just like it's placed there for convenience.

Hobbling up to the stream, I look at it closely. Fish! I see fish! This would just be dumped by another tribute, ignoring the fact that there is food supply right there at their feet. But, if you were from district 4, like I am, you would be praising everything around you. Being the fishing district, being born to fish, cast nets, and spear, this is it.

Sliding off my shoes, rolling my pants into shorts, I dunk my legs into the cool water, and sigh in content.

"Ahhh…." A moan escapes my lips in pure joy. Cooling me down from the scorching heat, this stream is amazing. I even dare to splash some on my face, smiling widely. It feels amazing.

Laughing and giggling, I continue to look like an idiot sitting on the ledge of the stream, not even caring for any new dangers, just remembering the sunny days at the beach back home, the same scorching heat, but not as hot as here, twirling my toes and fingers in the sand and salt water, relishing the moment of being where I belong. Within a blink of an eye, I see the crystal clear waters of the beach, my brother beckoning me to lend me father's fishing gear, and my sister calling me to look at a seashell she found. I take a step forwards, and instantly I come back from the dreamland and snap back to the reality that I am in the arena now. Not the calm and gentle beaches placed back home. If I want to go back there, to my brother, sister, mother and friend, I should focus on winning rather than hallucinating.

Some of the stream water falls on my tongue, leaving somewhat a sweet yet bitter after taste. But, I'd expect this, since I've been swallowing, wallowing, and swimming in seawater and saltwater my whole life, the saltiness must've stuck on to me; I'm not a fresh water person. I'm more of the sandy beach and salty water one.

Taking another tentative sip, and I conclude it's not harmful. Taking more sips to quench the thirst that has been collecting in my throat; I decide this stream is going to be my best friend in the arena.

I even take my spear, knowing that it never came in contact with harm or blood yet, I target a fish swimming in the water, and I spear it right through. I smile. If I manage to keep this spot hidden enough, this could be my safe haven; where I get food if I run out, where I'll get water and where I'll get refreshed. I'd have to mark this as my territory.

Experimenting my target skills on another fish, I decide to stop since I might finish the fish before I'll even need food. Not wanting to leave my safe haven, I decide to leave, since I might get caught here.

Trotting away, I take one look back to my stream, memorizing the way to get there. I'm set.

Walking, just walking around in the grassy floor. I then start hearing a loud wail.

Whipping my head back, I take in the sounds to decide if it's a bird call, or another person dying. But it doesn't sound like any of them. Nothing like a bird, or a wail of somebody 12 years old and above. Something more like a wail of terror, fear, and weakness. Something like my little siblings' cries.

I instantly hop onto my feet, worried about the possibilities. I'm worried because one of the games before, they actually took loved ones or familiar faces of tributes for more excitement in the arena, where the tributes had to save them from perils and whatnot. I'm dreading that might be the case right now.

Trying to indicate where the sounds come from, it's too much. It apparently comes from different directions, and I stumble blindly through the meadow sanctuary, getting lost and bumping into things, getting no grip on myself. What could've they done to my family? Did hovercrafts come down and picked them up from home? Tortured and beat them up and put them into the arena itself? Endless thoughts boggle my mind as I face a tree, where Reema, my little sister is tied up at.

Tears start pricking my eyes, and I'm sure the Capitol is on the edge of their seats right now. Tension and anger build up inside me.

"Ara, Ara help!" Reema pleads between sobs, and I'm frozen. Did they actually get my little sister into this arena? What did they do?

"Reema?" I start approaching her, shaking terribly. "Ara, help! They took us from four, Ara! Everyone!" she starts trembling and her nose begins to drip. As I am about to approach her, another piercing cry comes along, wavering its way into my eardrums.

"Ara, don't let them take me!" Reema begins to sob, while two huge claws appear out of nowhere and suck her into nothingness. I gasp loudly, trying to get myself intact. What did they just do to my younger sister? The Capitol is starting to get on my nerves right now.

Stumbling through the forest green patch, I follow up to another screaming person; Gavon, my brother.

"Gavon!" I yell, stopping in my tracks, seeing my brother looking beaten up and helpless.

I tentatively go beside him, and touch his cheek. When I slide my fingers to his cheek, electric shock enters me, and then he disappears. All a fake.

Anger is evident in my eyes as I try to produce as much anger in my face as possible. If they dare to do anymore funny jokes on me, they'll get something soon enough.

I think in my head, _So, the people were fake, but where on earth did they take the screams from?_ The screams. Oh no. What if they got my siblings to do that, to make something good to watch? What if they got tortured if they didn't do it, so they had to comply? Also, why are they giving a career like me such a hard time? Oh yeah. Because I turned down the other careers.

One last look at the trees. No more signs of the earlier shriek torture, only the innocent, forest patch. And as if I thought yelps, screeches and wails were over, I hear something new. Not anything Gamemaker generated, not anything to fool me. Something real. A scared, near death cry from a fellow tribute sends me to run in the direction of the voice.

I reach the spot, and I see Willow, cornered by the boy from six, who looks like a maniac, charging at a small girl. I slip my spear into place, and decide to face off with this boy.


End file.
